It's Your Birthday
by Broken Infinity
Summary: (And I Am Obligated to Celebrate it With You) McCoy has a birthday. Spock has to find him a present. Can only bad things come of this?FF.net works again!


It's You Birthday! (And I Am Obligated to Celebrate it With You)  
  
"Come on, Spock, it's his birthday!" James T. Kirk, captain of the Starship Enterpirse, whined to   
his First Officer. The 'his', or 'he' in question was the CMO, Dr. Leonard H. "Bones" McCoy. It   
was his birthday, although I'm sure this has already been made clear by the first line. Moving   
right along, Spock, (the First Officer, in case you didn't get that) raised an eyebrow.  
"Yes, I realize that, this is a seventh time you have told me this. Is there something I should   
know?" Spock said, his face completly straight and solem. "There is nothing I can do for the   
doctor, it is his human fate that he will age."  
"I know that, we're throwing him a party, will you come?" Jim asked, Spock raised the already   
raised eyebrow a little higher.   
"You are 'throwing' him a party? Will he be safe with the chance of dropping it? Or not catching   
it at all? Is that in the regulations? I'll have to check-"  
"Spock! Stop taking me to litterally, we are giving Bones a party. For his birthday. Well, we're   
giving him other things to, but the party is one of this things. Are you going to come?"   
The eyebrow lowered itself and a Vulcan-type thoughtful look came over Spock face. Essentially   
his forehead creased 0.000000000000023%, but, that's thoughtful. Really.  
"Yes. I will attend." Spock looked at Kirk. "But Captain, what will I get him?"  
"For his birthday?" Spock nodded. "I don't know, what do you think he'd want from you?"  
"I am not going to dignify that question with a response." There was pause and Spock sighed   
softly. "If I knew would I be asking?"  
"Spock!" Jim cried, looking shocked, one of Spock's eyebrows rose again. "That was the most   
un-Spock thing I've ever heard you say!"  
Spock repressed the urge to beat the snot out of Kirk and calmly walked off to his quarters. Then   
it hit him. He did the Vulcan equivalent of a victory dance (he blinked) and went straight to   
work.  
Four hours, six packs of eggs and lots of hissy fits, (though not from Spock, but from the people   
who kept trying to cook themselves eggs and failing because the couldn't find any. Heh. ) IT was   
done. Spock was very proud of his creation, and hoped to Logic that IT wouldn't kill the doctor.   
So then Spock waited for the party.  
The party started two hours after the finishing of IT, so IT got decorated and made pretty, or   
aestetically pleasing, as Spock would put it, and it was securely placed in a box and said boxed   
was dressed in paper and carried off to where the party was.  
By the time Spock got there the party was in full swing. Uhara, Sulu, Chekov and Scotty were   
stand around, talking, or something like that, the surviving redshirts were all looking   
absolutely terrified. Spock made a mental note not to give them any of IT. Because if he was   
bodering on fear about accidentally killing Doctor McCoy with IT, what would IT do to the   
redshirts?  
After what seemed like many hours and lots of water, McCoy was FINALLY allowed to open his   
presents. Spock put IT beside the pile and waited. McCoy stared with the pile, simply because he   
was afriad of accidentally killing a redshirt who died of shock when the pile fell over. He got   
lots and lots alcohol. A couple people gave him books, and various tranquilizers. Finally, he was   
down to IT. Inside Spock was pacing nervously, and sweating a lake, outside however it looked as   
though you could smack him with a sledge hammer and it wouldn't faze him. McCoy slowly, painfuly,   
took his sweet time opening IT. Until he had, at last, completly stripped IT or it's protective   
wrapping. It was a cake. A chocolate cake. A chocolate cake ot the ICID thing and it said 'Live   
Long and Prosper, Doctor' on it. McCoy was silent, the room was dead silent for a minute. Then,   
something entirely unexpected happened. McCoy put the cake down next to him and launched himself   
at Spock. He actually landed on Spock too. Poor Spock was so shocked he couldn't react. The   
sat/lay there like the for a while.  
"Thank you." McCoy finally whispered. "That's the sweetest most wonderful thing I've ever   
gotten."  
Spock was still in shock, and didn't reply. The rest of the crew didn't even flinch at that   
comment. They all grinned like an army of Chsire cats. Then Spock's wits came back.  
"Surely not. It's merely a cake. Furthermore I'm not sure if I made it correctly, you could   
suffer from food poisoning." The redshirts all backed away from it, like it would jump out and   
attack them.   
It didn't.  
The crew departed. They didn't want ot know what sort of horrible torture the Vulcan would   
undergo for that comment.  
Said Vulcan did not undergo any tortue.   
Well, no, he was fed his cake.   
  
Fin  
  
a/n: Okay, that had no point, but I wrote it on the 20th for D. Kelley's birthday. Even though I   
think he's dead. I don't care. Yes, that was the result of a twisted mind on a birthday. Also,   
this story is possibly the most grammatically incorrect and slightly OOC thing I've ever written.   
But that's okay, because I'm a happy birthday type person. ^^ Yay! So... yeah, I'll start working   
on that other stuff now. 


End file.
